The side-by-side duplex was built in the late 1800s, and Franco's grandparents were the first occupants. He only had vague memories of his grandfather, whom he remembered with a touch of fear, not based on any interaction he himself had, but because of the stories his mother told, usually involving the man's belt. His grandmother, however, Franco remembered clearly since she was still in a nursing home.
Both Carmella and Enzo were straight off the boat from Italy when they bought the duplex using all the money they had in the world. Enzo was a skilled craftsman, a cabinetmaker, and Carmella would make wedding cakes in the basement with her sisters, who lived next door. The basement kitchen was well-equipped and usually covered with flour and sugar as the women baked nearly every single day.
Eventually, Carmella's sisters died, spinsters. Enzo died relatively young of a heart attack. Carmella would live, and live, and live through it all, basking in her suffering. Franco's mother and father lived in the spinsters' side, next to his aging grandmother. His father would equip a downstairs closet with a toilet once Carmella stopped being able to climb the stairs. The house began to smell. It was a glorious day for Franco when his grandmother was dragged away to the nursing home.
Franco was charged with cleaning up his grandmother's side of the duplex. Clearing out all the paintings of Jesus, the Rosaries hanging from every corner, the urine-soaked clothing left to moulder on the second floor his grandmother hadn't been able to reach in years.
The basement still had the kitchen, though it had been unused since the late 50s. Carmella never allowed her grandson down there, and Franco took great joy in exploring what had been forbidden. He was the one who found the wine cellar filled with jars of old sauce, made from the original recipe handed down the generations, jars of moldy peaches, and a six pack of Utica Club beer.
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